


You’ve Got Style

by red_crate



Series: Harringrove Pornathon 2019 [4]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Angst and Porn, Bad Decisions, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Closeted Character, Come as Lube, Comeplay, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Hate Sex, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Misogyny, Spit As Lube, Underage Drinking, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-28 04:41:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19386679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_crate/pseuds/red_crate
Summary: “Go ahead,” Steve sneers, “C’mon, tell me about how good it was.”What the fuck, Billy thinks as he looks down at the tense line of Steve’s back. He backs off a little. When he loosens his grip on Steve’s wrist, the other boy wrenches it free and braces against the hood of the car. He pushes his ass back, rubs it against the front of Billy’s hips.He asks, “How’d you fuck her? C’mon, tell me. You already started.” Steve’s voice is dark, dangerous, and Billy doesn’t know what to think. Steve plants his elbows on the hood and his back curves with the change. He looks over his shoulder. “Finish.”Billy changes tactics.In his flirty voice, he asks, “You wanna hear about it?” Billy repositions the hand in Steve’s hair so he’s gripping the back of his neck. “Does it make you hot?”Steve pushes into the hold. He hums. “Maybe. But I’m not the only one.” Then he grinds back against Billy again. “Am, I Billy?”





	You’ve Got Style

**Author's Note:**

> Day three of the Harringrove Pornathon: comeplay and intercrural sex. 
> 
> **Additional author’s note:** this is dub con though it does swerve into a more consensual territory, but I think it’s subjective. Billy and Steve both get off on the objectification of an un-named OFC.

He wasn’t  _ looking _ for Steve, but if Steve is dumb enough to linger around the shadows of the house party after making a spectacular moron of himself, who is Billy to pass up the opportunity. He pauses in the doorway, spits onto the cracked cement at his feet before sauntering down the couple steps down to the garage.

“Well, well,” he says, taking lazy steps towards where Steve is sitting on the hood of an old Ford. “Hiding your shame?” 

Steve scoffs, slouching down a little. “Man, whatever. Sorry I didn’t want to be in some freaky orgy with a bunch of people I don’t know.” He picks up the red cup perched on the hood next to him and takes a sip. 

“What the fuck is  _ wrong _ with you?” Billy asks, anger tinging his words as he closes the distance between them. “Who the fuck turns down a fine piece of ass like that? You probably could have fucked them both.” 

Billy wasn’t looking to go off on Steve, but part of him is always going to be confused and frustrated by the way Steve just  _ doesn’t give a fuck _ about Billy or what Billy thinks. It makes him want to get under Steve’s skin, in his head so he knows how it feels. Even when Billy tries to extend a fucking olive branch like that—invite Steve to help him convince two blonde bombshells to a little group sex—fuck. Even  _ then _ Steve had brushed him off, smiled at the girls and told them to have fun. 

Steve laughs hollowly, “STDs don’t really get me going, but thanks. I hope you had fun.” He slides down from his perch and makes to leave. 

Billy catches him by the elbow. He steps into Steve’s personal space and his fingers tighten in his grip. “I did.” 

With a snort, Steve tries to step around and shrug off Billy’s hold, but Billy doesn’t let him go. Steve tenses. “Fantastic. Now let me go.” 

An idea is forming in the murky depths of Billy’s mind. He wets his bottom lip, smirks. “Why don’t I fill you in on what happened.” 

Steve gives him a dismissive look, “Did you get whiskey dick?” He pulls free and takes a step around Billy. 

“No,” Billy growls, grabs Steve again. He uses the momentum of Steve’s movement to swing the other boy around. “I didn’t.” 

Steve is completely cool under Billy’s heated gaze. It’s  _ maddening _ . He asks, “So why not gloat to your minions about it?” His eyebrows tip down in annoyance. “I’m sure there’s plenty of people in there who want to fawn over you.” 

That’s rich. Billy smirks. “Jealous,  _ King  _ Steve?” He pushes into Steve’s space again, chest to chest. 

Steve’s thin t-shirt brushes against Billy’s bare skin. He hadn’t bothered putting his shirt back on after he left the spare bedroom upstairs. It’s still tucked into his back pocket, safe from beer and bodily fluids. 

He looks Steve up and down. “I think I hear a hint of bitterness.” 

Steve shoves Billy with a short, sharp jab with both hands. “Give it up, Billy. I’m not playing your stupid mind games. Get out of my way.” 

It’s a near thing when Billy  _ doesn’t  _ sucker punch the asshole for mouthing off at him like that. He curls his fists just the same though. Instead, he keeps up close to Steve, doesn’t let him go. 

They’re not finished yet. 

“No, see. I’ve noticed something.” Billy tilts his head, looking sympathetic. “Ever since the princess dumped your ass, you’ve been going through a dry spell. I feel  _ bad _ for you. I just wanted to help a guy out.” 

Steve scoffs again. His hands push at Billy’s torso as he tries to slide out from between Billy and the Ford. “I don’t need your help. And I don’t  _ want _ it.” 

Billy’s mouth stretched open as he bared his teeth in a smile. Steve just wasn’t  _ getting _ it. Steve wouldn’t stay still and pay attention. 

Billy grabbed him and twisted the stumbling boy around so he could slam his face against the hood of the car. With a hand braced against the back of Steve’s head, Billy leaned down to say, “So let me paint you a picture.” 

Steve was shaking beneath him, anger rolling through his body with the kind of energy Billy knew and could feed off it made him smile for real. He twisted his fingers in Steve’s hair. 

“What the fuck?” Steve’s voice was higher than usual as he struggled against the hold Billy had on the belt around his waist. “Get off me!” 

“Shut up and listen,” Billy said quietly. He used the weight of his body to hold Steve down, pinned where he couldn’t get away, couldn’t brush Billy off. “We started kissing so she’d be in the mood. You know how bitches like a little romance. Did that for a couple minutes where you left us before we moved to one of the spare bedrooms.” 

Steve shoves am elbow back but Billy just grunts at the spark of pain. He keeps talking. 

“I got her up against the door.” He pulls Steve up just an inch or two in order to slam him back down onto the hood. He enjoys the thus of Steve’s body hitting the metal. “Still kissing. Because, well, I like that shit too. But then I got my hands up her shirt. Those tits? Nice and full.” 

Steve turns his head so his face is pressed against the car. A frustrated noise escapes him. “Thanks for the play by play.” 

Billy laughs. “What are friends for, right?” He stands up and grabs one of Steve’s arms so its twisted behind his back. Against Steve’s war, he says, “I’m generous like that.” 

He opens his mouth to tell Steve more, but Steve lets out a laugh that is almost mocking. 

Steve says, “You’ve got a fucked up definition of ‘friends.’ I don’t go around grinding up against mine, telling them dirty stories so I can get my rocks off.” 

That makes Billy pause, frown. 

“Go ahead,” Steve sneers, “C’mon, tell me about how good it was.” 

_ What the fuck _ , Billy thinks as he looks down at the tense line of Steve’s back. He backs off a little. When he loosens his grip on Steve’s wrist, the other boy wrenches it free and braces against the hood of the car. He pushes his ass back, rubs it against the front of Billy’s hips. 

He asks, “How’d you fuck her? C’mon, tell me. You already started.” Steve’s voice is dark, dangerous, and Billy doesn’t know  _ what _ to think. Steve plants his elbows on the hood and his back curves with the change. He looks over his shoulder. “ _ Finish _ .” 

There’s something about Steve’s demeanor that has Billy reeling. He’d been expecting just straight up disgust or fear...just...a reaction that made Billy feel like Steve wasn’t looking right through him, past him, and not  _ seeing him _ . Billy could practically feel his knuckles smashing into Steve’s stupid, pretty face. He’d like to split that mean little mouth again, put bruises on his skin just so everyone would know that was Billy who’d done it. But Steve isn’t  _ playing along _ . 

A bitter fear of his own is swirling inside Billy. He doesn’t know what the fear mean, it he ignores it. Billy looks at the way Steve’s fists are balled up and the way his teeth gleam against his bottom lip. He sees something he recognizes, identifies with. 

He changes tactics. 

In his flirty voice, he asks, “You wanna hear about it?” Billy repositions the hand in Steve’s hair so he’s gripping the back of his neck. “Does it make you hot?”

Steve pushes into the hold. He hums. “Maybe. But I’m not the only one.” Then he grinds back against Billy again. “Am, I Billy?” 

Billy sucks in a fast breath when he realizes he’s hard in his jeans. The material is rough against his bare cock where it’s trapped. He hadn’t been paying attention, too focused on getting Steve’s to notice what his body was doing. He flushes. 

He doesn’t think, just acts. 

Billy grabs Steve’s waist with his other hand yanks him tight up against his own body. He lets go and reaches around to grab at the front of Steve’s shorts. He’s hard. 

With a low hum, Billy grins sharply. “I fucked her like this.” His fingers finger work to unbutton and unzip Steve’s shorts. “Had her just like this on the bed.” 

Steve doesn’t say anything, but he moves to unbuckle his belt, help Billy get his shorts open. He’s breathing hard, and it feels like victory. Finally, Steve is working with Billy. 

“Couldn’t wait, or did you want her from behind so you could pretend it was someone else?” Steve taunted. His words break off sharply with a groan. 

Billy’s got his hand around his cock. The feel is hot, form, and way more satisfying than it has any right to be. He jacks Steve off a little, dry, before releasing him all together. 

He lifts his hand to Steve’s mouth and says, “Spit.” 

Steve does as instructed, and it’s enough to keep the drag of Billy’s palm over his cock from hurting more than it feels good. Billy works his fist over Steve like that, keeps talking. 

He says, “She was already wet when I got her panties down. I guess she liked the little show we gave her earlier.” 

Billy can’t help but flashback to the feel of Steve’s reluctant mouth against his when they’d kissed. The two girls Billy had been talking up wouldn’t make out unless Billy gave a little quid pro quo. It was sheer luck that put Steve walking by when Billy was facing losing the payoff to all his hard work. 

Steve tips his head back, mouth open. It’s almost too dark in the garage now—no light pouring in from the door Billy closed behind him. Billy wishes he could see if it’s wet, if Steve had been biting at his bottom lip to hold back the noises as Billy jerked him off. 

“Did she let you fuck straight off?” Steve asks. For the first time he just sounds curious, not angry or challenging. 

Billy pushes the precome beading up at the tip of Steve’s cock, spreads the thin liquid down. His palm is already drying with the friction, but this helps. 

Billy tugs at Steve’s neck. He words his fingers in the tense muscle hard enough that there might be smudges of bruise there later. Another quiet moan slips from Steve at that. Billy releases his hold, no matter how good it felt to make  _ King Steve _ do that. His own desire is stoking low in his stomach. If this is the only chance he’s going to get, then he wants to  _ touch _ . 

He answers the question. Keeping the pretense of conversation going is taking more effort now. “I like that shit,” he confesses and elaborates. “You know, getting my hand in her panties and fingerbanging the bitch until she’s squealing. Did that first.” 

Steve’s skin is hot against Billy’s when he shoves the hem of that stupid maroon colored tee up his back. Billy spreads his fingers out to get his hand on as much real estate as possible as he slides his palm up and down Steve’s flank slowly. 

When Billy’s hand goes lower, sneaks past the loose fabric of his shorts, Steve lets out a curse. “Fuck. I bet you like eating them out to.” 

Billy chuckles. He pushes his fingers beneath Steve’s tighty whities and gets a good grip on his ass. Steve’s got a compact, firm ass. It fits nicely in Billy’s hand, bounces a little when he pulls it up and lets go. Billy’s dying to see more, touch more. He’s so fucking hard it hurts. 

“Yeah, baby,” he says. “I’m good at it too.” Billy yanks at the clothes covering Steve’s bottom. “But I didn’t do that tonight. Too wound up, so I just got her off on my hand. Like this right here.” He finally gets the clothing down to Steve’s knees. Billy reaches down to drag his hand up the back of Steve’s thigh and farther up to dip between Steve’s ass cheeks. 

“Oh God,” Steve pants. His hips tilt backwards, push back against Billy. “Take it out, man. Don’t make me do this alone.” He begs with a hoarse whisper. “I’m so fucking close.” 

Billy’s not nice enough to leave an encounter like this without getting his own, but it’s cute to hear the desperation in Steve’s voice when he begs so pretty like that. 

He laughs, “Yeah, I bet. Fucking hair trigger after all this time.” Billy licks his lips, pretends he’s doing Steve a favor. “But yeah, okay, baby. You wanna feel it?” 

Steve lets out a groan at that. He’ll probably be embarrassed by that later, but Billy will still know. Steve takes over stroking himself off as Billy makes quick work of getting his jeans open and pushes down enough. The whispered, “Fuck,” when Billy spits down onto his own cock burns hotly in his ear. 

Billy steps closer and smears the spit around. His knuckles bump up against Steve’s ass. “You want me to keep talking?” 

Nothing but labored breathing and the sound of skin on skin is his answer until Billy grabs hold of Steve’s bare hip.

He growls out, “Say yes.” 

Biting off a sound, Steve drops his head back down to the hood of the car and confesses, “Yes, fuck. Fuck you.” His hand hasn’t slowed on his cock. 

This is better than the last three real fucks put together, and they aren’t even really  _ doing  _ much. Nothing more than what Billy used to do with the bitches during his middle school dances anyway. He doesn’t think about how drastically different this is from everything else though, how he’s never allowed himself anything like this, how the thought drives him fucking crazy. 

Billy says, “I pulled her panties down and pushed her skirt up. She was on her hands and knees like a bitch in heat, so fucking ready for my cock.” He grabs Steve’s ass again, pushes his thumb into that little valley between the cheeks. 

God he wishes he had something to use right now. 

He says, “Slid in so easy.” Billy’s sweating. His words and breath come short as he listens to Steve falling apart pressed up against him, getting off on Billy’s words and Billy’s touch. “Fuck, she felt good too. He’s was loud while I pounded that ass.” 

“Shit,  _ fuck _ ,” Steve shudders. His hand speeds up, hips jerking erratically. Billy feels each tensed muscle and spasm as Steve shoots off. The moan that pours from Steve’s mouth is drawn out, trickles into a deep groan. 

“Fuck yeah,” Billy mutters. 

He gets his hand on Steve’s cock again, not looking to draw out the pleasure as much as he was trying to scoop up the mess of come on Steve’s hand and crotch. He swiped his thumb over the slit, moaning when Steve whimpered. 

“Keep still,” he urges quickly as he pushes his wet fingers between Steve’s thighs. “It’s my turn.” 

Steve nods weakly where he’s hunched over. Billy realized he’s standing on his tiptoes now, tilting his ass up so Billy can easily slide his cock between his thighs. 

Billy bites his lip and sucks it in his mouth at the delicious feel around his cock. It’s not quite as tight and not nearly as deep at this angle as fucking a girl’s pussy, but fuck. Having Steve paid out for him and practically begging him to ruin him is almost better than all of that. He’s going to think about this every time they’re in the same room together, every time he’s alone in his bedroom. 

“Gonna make a mess of your preppy ass,” he laughs, biting off a moan when Steve clenches around him. 

That seems to affect Steve, which is hilarious and equally hot. Steve curses and shoves back on Billy’s cock like he’s really taking his cock inside, pounds his fist down on the hood of the car. Billy keeps up a relentless pace as he holds the base of his cock in place and rubs the hypersensitive spot at the root. 

Billy doesn’t even know what he’s saying, just stringing together words and sounds as he fucks in and out of that warm space between Steve’s thighs. The soft hair there, matted with come that is already drying and becoming tacky, is sensation Billy’s not quite experienced anything like. 

“Fucking love your legs,” he thinks he hears himself say. But the lightening storm of pleasure crashing through his body drowns out everything else. “Your  _ ass _ .” 

Steve urges him on, “Yeah. Yeah, do it,” he says breathily. He reaches back, fingers slip on Billy’s sweat slick skin, so he just grabs onto Billy’s wrist. 

It would be embarrassing for Billy that he does come right then, but he’s too busy blissing out on the wave of his orgasm to care. 

He pulls back so he can get his hand all the way up and down, milk every bit of ecstasy from the moment. Come splatters on Steve’s skin and the back of Billy’s fist. He pushes his hips forward slowly, pushes his cock back between the warm, wet place between Steve’s thighs. Billy lets his fingers catch there as he releases his cock, smears the come around while he catches his breath. 

“Fuck,” he comments succinctly, stepping back a few seconds later. 

Steve slowly pulls his underwear and shorts back up. Billy wonders if he’s making a face about the feel. There’s nothing to clean up with out here. Billy smirks at the knowledge that Steve’s going to have to walk through the party with Billy’s come between his legs. 

The glee dims some when the reality of it all starts to settle on his shoulders. He hurries up, gets his junk tucked back in his jeans. Billy even pulls his shirt back on though he leaves the front unbuttoned. 

When Steve turns around, guzzling down the last of his beer from the cup that somehow hadn’t been knocked to the ground, Billy says, “Keep your trap shut.” 

Steve snorts, chokes on the beer. After coughing, he says, “God, you’re a joke.” He shakes his head and starts to walk past Billy. 

It’s like they’re right back where they started suddenly, the last twenty minutes wipes from the books. Billy sees red. He grabs Steve by the collar of his t-shirt and swings him around, backs him all the way up to the nearest wall. 

He spits the words out. “You’re the fucking joke. No one respects you anymore or even gives a shit about you. So stop acting so fucking better than everyone you stuck up, asshole!” 

Steve takes a breath, eerily still beneath Billy’s hand. He finally says, “I’m not gonna tell anyone about this.” He bares his teeth like a smile at Billy—fake, fake, fake. “Because I don’t want anyone to know I stooped so low.” 

Billy is frozen just long enough, brain shorted out with anger and humiliation, that Steve is able to shove him backwards so he can escape the garage and leave Billy to his shame. 

“Fuck!” Billy grabs the closest thing—a crate of old bottles—and throws it to the ground where the glass shatters into a million pieces. The darkness around him hides the tears in his eyes. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Title from “Dress You Up” by Madonna.
> 
> I’m the-redcrate on tumblr.


End file.
